


Strictly Platonic

by nomelon



Series: Bill & Ted's Excellent Collection [6]
Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: Best Friends, Bromance to Romance, California, Coming Out, Drag Queens, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar, Heart-to-Heart, M/M, Making Out, Old Married Couple, Rock and Roll, Soul-Searching, late onset sexual identity crisis, quietly freaking out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25668016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomelon/pseuds/nomelon
Summary: Bill and Ted play a gig in a gay bar and receive a little advice from the most fabulous drag queen in all of Glendale.
Relationships: Ted "Theodore" Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.
Series: Bill & Ted's Excellent Collection [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1039224
Comments: 40
Kudos: 288





	Strictly Platonic

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: mific suggested undercover in a gay bar, but I didn't think Bill and Ted would be much good at going undercover, so I just had them play a gig there instead.

It was one of the last gigs on their Post-Halloween Los Angeles County Tour 2019, and their first time playing this particular venue, but as usual, Bill and Ted gave it their all.

"Good night and thank you, Glendale!" they yelled as one after their third curtain call, letting their guitars' last notes trail off into the ether, swallowed up by the cheers of the crowd.

It had been a good set, a great set, maybe a hundred people there and actively engaged with the music, buoyed up by the Thursday night Drag Queen Bingo due to start at eleven. Bill and Ted were buzzing with the thrill of a job well done, the beat still pulsing in their veins. They packed up their equipment, said goodnight to Gene and Ace -- their fill-in keyboardist and drummer of the past eight years -- and loaded the van.

"Beer?" Ted asked.

"Beer," Bill nodded.

They wandered into the back bar, and Ted went to get them drinks while Bill snagged a free seat on a well-worn red leather sofa in a quiet corner. Ted was pulling a couple of bills out of his wallet, waiting for the bartender to finish up with another customer, when a slim guy with a mop of curly hair, in his mid-20s maybe, approached Ted. The guy was wearing a tank and a little pair of shorts and he was looking at Ted like he had a serious case of the munchies and Ted was the last slice of pizza. They struck up a conversation, Ted smiling, and the guy stepped in close, leading with his hips, one hand skimming down Ted's arm.

There was a strange tight feeling in Bill's chest. It wasn't the first time either of them had been approached after a gig, far from it, and this felt like all those times women, and a couple of guys, had hit on Ted when they'd still been married and Bill had come over all protective and flattered but, somewhere deep down, a little annoyed on Ted's behalf. It wasn't their admirers' fault -- how were they to know that two such rock 'n' roll types as themselves had, at that point, settled and fulfilling home lives? -- but it was irksome all the same.

The guy was clearly hitting on Ted -- wide eyes, wet lips, body language all but screaming it -- but Ted didn't seem bothered in the slightest. He shook his head amiably as he gave his drinks order, and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder in Bill's general direction, at which point the guy visibly sighed and shrugged dramatically like he was saying: you have ruined me for all other men, but hey, no harm, no foul. Then he stepped back, Ted stuck out his hand and they shook, and then he was coming Bill's way.

Bill accepted his beer. Ted collapsed onto the sofa, and they clinked their bottles and drank heartily, quenching their thirst and replacing all those sweated out electrolytes.

"So that guy..."

Ted followed where Bill was pointing. "Oh, yeah. He said he liked the 'old school rock vibe'--" Ted made finger-quotes and pulled a face. "--and that he has a thing for older guys. I told him I wasn't currently in the market for a significant other and he backed off." Ted leaned in closer, looking amused and a little embarrassed. "He called me _daddy_ , dude."

Bill tried not to, but he burst out laughing. "We are so old, dude."

"So very old," Ted said, nodding sagely.

They were feeling good and all was right with the world. No harm, no foul. Their beers disappeared quickly and they were just considering round two when a statuesque drag queen in tall platform stilettos and an even taller orange wig appeared and handed them two fresh beers.

"Thank you very much," Ted said. "What do we owe you?"

"On the house, boys."

"Excellent," they said with a smile, clinked again, and drank. After two large "ahhhhs" of appreciation, Bill saluted her with his bottle. "Our most profound thanks."

"You're welcome, sugar. Which one of you boys is which?"

Bill laid a hand on his chest. "I'm Bill S. Preston, and this is my esteemed colleague, Ted Logan."

The queen smiled. " _Enchanté_. I'm Anita-Manda Huggenkiss."

"A most exceptional name," Ted said, impressed.

"That was quite the set you played," she said. "It really brought me back."

"Rock'n'roll is a source," Bill said solemnly.

Ted nodded in agreement. "It's a life-changer."

"I have to admit, you boys aren't our usual thing at all." She sat on an armchair opposite them, crossed her long, long legs, and set one elbow on the arm of the chair to lean in closer. Her eyelashes were doing a great job of defying gravity. "But you were _good_. I just about died. That retro rock sound... and all originals but you still hooked everyone in? Pity it's not still the 90s. Seriously, you could have been _huge_."

Such effusive praise shouldn't have made him so glum, but knowing what Bill knew about the space-time continuum and predestination... it was hard to drum up a genuine smile, so he settled for a polite one. "I'm glad you liked it."

"Honey, I loved it. I have never seen so many queens head-banging in my _life_. My wig nearly flew off."

It was kind of obvious that they weren't giving her the responses she was expecting, but it was so hard to hear such rave reviews and know that somewhere along the way, they hadn't hit their mark. They weren't the biggest, most influential band in all of time and creation. They simply hadn't lived up to their potential. And that, in the grand scheme of things, was most non-non- _non_ -triumphant.

"So... how long have you two been together?" Anita asked, changing tack.

"We met in kindergarten," Ted said.

"That's so cute. Childhood friendship that blossomed into romance. Ride or die."

Their eyes widened comically and they shook their heads.

"Hetero life partners," Ted said.

"Strictly platonic," Bill added.

She gestured between them. "You mean you two aren't queer?"

Ted glanced over at Bill. "That's not for us to say, uh, ma'am."

"Wouldn't you be the only ones who could say it?" she asked, confused.

Ted shifted his weight. "When we were younger, we were guilty of using such slurs as means of disparagement for comedic effect." Bill nodded and looked ashamed beside him. "But we have since educated ourselves and no longer use such terms in a derogatory manner."

"Well, that's good, sugar. It's never too late to improve yourself. But we took it back. It ain't derogatory if it's what you are. You see what I'm saying?"

Ted blinked a few times and looked puzzled.

Anita tried again. "What I meant was: you two really aren't together?"

Bill and Ted looked at each other and burst out into wide smiles. "Us?" they said together, and chuckled.

"With a vibe like you two have?" Anita narrowed her eyes, warming to her task. "So you're telling me you're lifelong friends," Bill and Ted nodded enthusiastically, "never been apart," Bill and Ted shook their heads, "together through thick and thin," another vigorous nod, "and you've never even once even considered it?"

"Well, that's not..." Ted began.

"Yeah, I mean, we never..." Bill added.

"We were married!" said Ted.

"To babes! Uh, female ladies!" said Bill.

"Me and Bill, we're associates," said Ted.

"Colleagues," said Bill.

"Best friends."

"Bandmates!"

Anita rested her acrylics on her cheek. "Oh my god, they were bandmates," she said with a wistful smile.

"Ma'am?" Ted said, looking for clarification.

"Honey, not for nothin', but I love how you call me 'ma'am'." Music started up in the other room. "Oh!" Anita stood up. "They're playing my tune. You staying for the bingo?"

Bill and Ted shook their heads. "Day jobs tomorrow," Bill said. "We have to get in at least six hours of sleep or we're useless all day."

"Too bad." Anita smoothed down her cocktail dress and waggled her fingers at them. "Well, ciao for now, boys. Thanks again for warming up the crowd for me."

She tottered off on her dangerously tall heels, pausing only in the doorway to tap one long fingernail against the "B" on the giant sparkly LGBTQ+ banner hanging over her head, and left Bill and Ted sitting alone and contemplative.

The silence stretched on.

And on.

Cheers and whistles and the beginnings of an exceedingly rude joke floated in from the next room.

"Ted," Bill said eventually, toying with the loose edge of his beer label. "You don't think she had a point, do you?"

"Well," Ted said, turning to face him, "that depends. Do you have the hots for me?"

Bill drew back a little. He pulled a face and immediately felt like he was overdoing it. "No," he said, with a little laugh. That tight, protective feeling was back.

"Okay, then," Ted said. "No point." He finished the last of his beer and set it on the table. "C'mon, dude. Time to hit the road."

\---

Post-Halloween turned into pre-Christmas, and the weather got chillier than was typical for the West Coast. In the small apartment he shared with Ted, Bill sat down with his guitar, intent on attacking The Song. There was no reason a damp November Tuesday night in San Dimas with nothing particularly spectacular on the horizon in any direction couldn't be the night things magically fell into place.

Half an hour later, with a blank sheet of paper still in front of him, Bill set his guitar to one side and started pacing.

Ted was in the kitchen making dinner. Now that they were officially "old", and living the bachelor life once again, they were making a concerted effort not to live off of junk food. They had no wish to experience middle-aged spread, so after little needling from their daughters Thea and Billie about taking better care of themselves, and after Ted had read a couple of articles about organic farming and how grass-fed meat was the key to saving the environment plus fighting cancer _and_ obesity, suddenly salads and farmers market burgers were their go-to weeknight dinner plans.

Their living room and kitchen were open plan, so when Bill twisted in his seat, he was able to catch glimpses of Ted moving around the kitchen, focused on what he was doing, smiling occasionally as the meal he was preparing took shape.

Ted took good care of him, Bill realised. He was a good friend. The best friend. Bill tried for a second to imagine his life without Ted in it, and it was simultaneously hilarious, deeply sad, overly dull, and pretty horrifying.

Was it conceivable that he _could_ have the hots for Ted? After all this time? Bill knew that he loved Ted, no question, and he was fully on-board with the idea that sexuality was fluid. Billie hadn't even been nervous when she'd told him she was dating a girl a year or so back. She'd flitted back and forth between girls and boys since then, and it hadn't even occurred to Bill to mind. Why would he? So long as she was happy and safe, respected and respectful, Bill let her live her own life.

Bill had been lucky enough to find true love at a young age and started a family not long afterwards. He was a one woman man and he could truly say that while he'd been with Elizabeth, his eye hadn't wandered.

Plus, thinking about random dudes like that didn't do much for him. Well... there was Eddie Vedder, of course, but Bill was of the opinion that he was an outlier who skewed the curve and so perhaps shouldn't be counted. Okay, so that was one. So dudes didn't _often_ do much for him.

But then there was also Antony Kiedis. And, yeah, okay, he wouldn't have kicked Dave Grohl out of bed either.

"Woah," Bill said, realisation dawning. "Maybe I have a type!"

Bill stood at the window, frowning out at the dark night and the rain spattering on the tarmac of the Circle K parking lot below.

"Balls," he said, because he was pretty sure he was on the verge of doing something really dumb. He looked up at the grey sky and steeled himself. "Uh, God? If you're listening... Long time, no see! I hope heaven's doing okay and everything remains tranquil." He took a breath, held it, and let it out slowly. "I, uh, haven't asked you for much over the years. As you know, I've always just kinda taken things as they came and rolled with it, but... something has recently been weighing heavily upon me. So if you could maybe see your way clear to not letting what I'm about to do mess up my entire life, I'd really appreciate it. Amen, dude. Oh!" He put a hand on the glass and grinned up at the rainclouds. "Tell Station I said hi!"

Okay. Stage one complete.

The short walk to the kitchen had never seemed so long before. He stood on the threshold of where living room became kitchen and tried to melt into the wall. Eventually Ted looked up from chopping tomatoes and dumping them into a large bowl and grinned at him.

Bill smiled back, though it felt a little rough around the edges. He had to clear his throat to speak.

"Dude."

"Dude?"

"Ted."

"Bill?"

"Ted, I've been thinking."

"Dangerous," Ted said, and tore open a bag of mixed salad leaves.

Bill didn't even rise to the taunt. "Ted," he said, gesturing expansively. "We have lived epic and unusual lives."

Ted shot him a look like that was obvious because _yeah_ , they had.

"We've experienced things that most men could only dream of. We've travelled the afterlife. We've seen the future and the past. We've had meaningful contact with extra-terrestrial life. We've held down day jobs, had beautiful kids, and sustained long but ultimately doomed marriages with bodacious historical princesses. We had the literal embodiment of Death in our band before he had to go back to _his_ day job. We learned how to _play_." Here they shot in a quick air guitar because some things never, ever got old.

"That whole aligning the planets thing and speaking to animals never came to pass, though."

Bill held up a finger. "We're still working on The Song, dude."

Ted puffed out his cheeks. Bill got it. Uniting the world had seemed a whole lot more attainable when they were teenagers. Turned out it was way harder when you actually had to put in the legwork while balancing day jobs and raising kids.

Bill waved it away. "But-but that's not even what I'm talking about."

Ted tossed a dish towel over his shoulder. "It isn't?"

"Ted, don't you think that we've truly experienced life?"

Ted nodded, his hair flopping in his face.

"And we've never backed down from adventure," Bill said. "We've always met whatever life threw at us head on, right?"

Ted spread his hands, like there was nothing Bill was telling him here that didn't go without saying.

Bill swallowed. "Never say no to any positive new experience, right?"

"Right."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"That's good."

Ted watched him closely, his expression open and ready for wherever Bill was going with this. Bill was painfully aware that he'd stalled in his epic speech and now didn't seem to be going anywhere at all.

Eventually, Ted frowned fondly. "Bill, I have no clue what you're talking about, dude."

Bill was out of his depth and sinking fast, but he had to _know_. What if they'd been missing out on the most excellent adventure of them all?

He flipped off the knob on the grill, then grabbed Ted by the wrist and pulled him back out into their tiny living room.

"Bill?"

"Don't punch me, all right?"

Ted had a split second to look bemused before Bill leaned in and kissed him.

Ted sucked in a surprised breath, and Bill suffered through a _crashing_ wave of anxiety, but then Ted's hands were on his face and the kiss went from careful and terrified to open and hot, and Bill's confused stomach did a huge swoop and roll.

They broke apart and Ted's eyes were still closed. "Woah," he said, his forehead creased like he was experiencing some seriously deep existential thought.

"I know, right?" Bill's voice was a little squeaky and his hands were _shaking_ , so he closed them into fists on the front of Ted's button-down.

"Bill," Ted said, his voice low and soft, "this is _most_ unprecedented." He opened his eyes. His hands moved down to Bill's shoulders.

"You gonna punch me?"

Ted looked hurt. "I'm a pacifist, dude."

"I know. But everyone's got their limit."

"You're safe with me."

"Am I?" Bill asked. "Was this... Did I just break us?"

Ted shook his head, his tongue darting over his lips. "It'd take a lot more than that to break us."

Bill's whole body sagged in relief. "It's just... I started thinking about it. Like, as a hypothetical, but then it just seemed... I dunno. Like I tried to see you through new eyes and not just as this Ted-shaped dude in my life."

"So... what you're saying is... you _do_ have the hots for me."

Bill snorted and pushed a little with his fists against Ted's chest.

Ted smiled back, but it went soft around the edges. "We should probably try again. Like, scientific method. I mean, if we're going to see this thing through. Just to be sure."

Bill's whole body felt light and floaty. He was suddenly really aware of the backs of his knees and his stomach was tied up in knots. "Oh. Well, yeah, I mean, if you think so. It does pay to be sure."

He pulled Ted in for another highly scientific kiss.

\---

Bill found Anita in the back bar, perched on a bar stool, glasses on the end of her nose, tapping at a tablet with her knuckle. She looked up when he appeared at her shoulder and tossed her glasses onto the bar.

"Well, hello, sugar. Back again so soon? You here by yourself? I thought you two were joined at the hip." Bill flushed scarlet and Anita's eyes got very wide. She grinned and clapped her hands and even kicked her feet a little. "Oh, yay! You decided to take Ted out for a test drive, hmm?" She flicked open the fan she had hanging around her wrist and fanned herself, batting her eyelashes at him. "I sure do hope it wasn't something I said."

"I need a drink," Bill said, and waved at the bartender.

Anita turned on her barstool to fully face Bill. She watched him closely as he accepted his beer and drank deeply, then toyed with the label, frowning at it and not making eye contact.

"So," she said when it became clear that he wasn't going to volunteer any fresh information. "Why did you come back to see your Auntie Anita?"

"Well, Ted had a thing with his daughter today, and I find myself as a loose end."

"Too much going on up top?"

Bill shrugged and gestured with his free hand in an all-encompassing gesture. "The thing is..."

"Yes?" she prompted.

"The thing is..." He sighed and took another drink, then set his bottle on the bar, precisely in the centre of his beermat. "Here's the thing."

Anita looked heavenward, then took Bill's hands in her own and gave him an encouraging squeeze. "Bill," she said. "What's the thing?"

Bill made eye contact. "The thing is... I'm just too old to be having a sexual identity crisis."

"Oh, honey, you're _never_ too old for a thing like that. Just because you popped your best friend's cherry, it doesn't mean things are going to go bad. It doesn't even mean things have to change. You just have to talk it through, that's all."

"We didn't even... We didn't do that. We just... made out a little... okay, a lot, and talked about... well, mostly about the inexplicable nature of life."

"Oh my god. You two are just the sweetest dumplings the good lord above has ever seen fit to drop into my bowl of chicken soup." She looked at Bill like she couldn't get over how adorable he was, like she was wondering if she was up to the challenge of adopting a pair of 50-something bi-curious Valley Boys. "Listen to me now. I can see this is a big deal. How did it feel when you kissed him?"

Bill's face went through a series of interesting expressions, mostly embarrassed, with a few smiles and head ducks thrown in, and, at one point, a toe scuff.

"It felt good?"

Bill nodded.

"It felt right?"

Bill nodded harder.

"Did he look like he enjoyed himself?"

There was a pause, but Bill nodded again.

"He still talk to you afterwards?"

"Yeah. I mean, we got a little awkward, but yeah."

"Then why are you set on jumping right to the worst case scenario? You ever think he just needs a little thinking space of his own?"

"... maybe?"

"He doesn't look like the kind to hold something like that against you." Her smile turned sly. "Unless you want him holding things against you."

Bill's blush made a roaring comeback, but he glanced up at her from under his eyelashes and looked hopeful. "You think?"

"I know."

Bill darted in and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, Anita. You give most excellent pep talks."

"You're welcome, sugar. Now." She hopped off her barstool and smoothed down her skirt. "I have actual work to do. It's not all sitting around looking fabulous and doling out free advice, y'know."

"Bummer," Bill said. "But, really, thank you. I feel a lot better now."

"Don't be a stranger, now, y'hear?"

"We'll come back sometime for the bingo." He glanced at the clock over her head. "I should go, too. Ted will be home soon. Catch you later, Anita."

"I want an invite to the wedding!" she called after him.

Bill turned mid-step. "If we get that far, you can totally be my maid of honour!" He completed the turn and kept walking as Anita burst out laughing and waved him out the door.

\---

When Bill arrived back at their place, Ted still wasn't home. It was kind of late, but Bill tried to remember what Anita had said and remain calm. No jumping straight to the worst case scenario. Ted had probably just got tied up with Thea. Or he just needed a little space, a little time to think. That was totally acceptable and Bill was morally obliged to be patient because this was a Big Deal. This changed everything.

Well, not everything, but it definitely altered the status quo.

But what if Ted decided that getting intimate with Bill on a physical level just wasn't for him? What if he'd mulled it over and realised that he just wasn't into dudes, even ones who'd been half of his whole for longer than they could both remember? What if he'd decided that he didn't want to live with Bill anymore because obviously the close quarters were just too close now that they'd tried out a little lip action and Ted was clearly regretting it?

Bill sat down heavily on the couch and quietly, inwardly, started to really freak out.

He couldn't say for sure how long he'd been sitting there, staring at nothing in the middle ground. He blinked when the lights from a passing car ran over the living room wall, and he realised it was past dusk and he'd been sitting there in the dark. He fumbled his cell out of his back pocket and brought up Ted's name. He ran his thumb over and over the three little letters, thinking about calling -- such a small thing, something he'd done thousands of times before -- and realised he didn't know what he'd say.

Eventually Bill got up and went to the kitchen, flipping on the lights on the way. He stared blankly into the fridge for a while, then went back and sat on the couch some more.

It was after midnight when he finally heard Ted's keys in the lock. Bill was on his feet before he even realised he'd moved. Ted did that thing where he had to wiggle his keys as they always got stuck, closed the door behind him, and took off his backpack and pulled his hoodie over his head.

"Ted."

There was a short but noticeable pause in the hoodie removal before Ted remerged into the world at large, his hair mussed and sticking up in all directions.

"Hey, Bill," Ted said, bashful. He tossed his hoodie over the back of an armchair.

"You're home late, dude."

"Yeah. I dropped Thea home and then I went for a drive in the hills."

"Oh, okay."

"My head was, like, _bursting_."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

Ted pulled a battered notebook from his backpack and waved it in Bill's general direction. Bill took it and opened it to the last couple of pages to see chords scrawled in Ted's messy handwriting.

It was Ted's turn to pace. "It's not finished or anything. I mean, I need your input, dude. It's definitely a two man job. There's a bridge I want but it doesn't sound right yet. And lyrics-wise I only have an idea for the chorus, but..." He spun around and came to a stop in front of Bill. "I really like it."

Bill's fingers itched for his guitar, to play what Ted had written and to experience for himself what had gotten Ted so invigorated. Ted _never_ said he liked his own work. He kept that kind of praise for songs that Bill had penned, or stuff they'd worked on together.

"Is this... is this because..."

Ted took a step closer, then visibly caught himself and hid behind his hair, which was entirely unfair, in Bill's humble opinion. "It's _totally_ because we made out, dude," Ted said, and Bill blushed right down to his _soul_. "I had to get out. Think things over. And then I just... my heart was beating real fast, and I... I started humming this tune and... and I _missed_ you, Bill. It had only been, like, a couple of hours, but it was..." He shook his head, like he couldn't find the words. "It's like... I haven't felt _joyful_ about anything in a long time, y'know?"

Bill was a little taken aback when his eyes prickled and his heart beat out a serious drum solo inside his ribcage. He realised Ted had been waiting for some kind of a response so he nodded, his voice stuck in his throat.

"Right!" Ted said. "I think you kick-started me, dude."

Bill reached out without meaning to and caught hold of the tail of Ted's shirt. "It's most excellent to see you so energised, Ted," he said in a rough whisper.

"I have you to thank, Bill."

"You are most welcome for letting me..." Bill stumbled but pressed on. He was the one who'd started this ball rolling. Least he could do was try and be brave enough to actually say the words. "... for-for letting me..." Ted was staring at his lips. "Ted," he said, and his voice was really going to give out on him. "You wanna try it again?" Because if he couldn't say the words, he could show Ted what he meant.

Ted nodded, and took the last step in so they were toe to toe. "How come we never did this before, Bill?" he asked, and for some reason he was whispering too.

Bill thought for a moment. "Remember what it was like when we both played lead all the time, and we never thought about having a bass in the band, and then one day you picked one up and started playing and it took things to another level? Something we'd never even considered before, and it was like... like..."

"Like our eyes were opened to a vivid and fulfilling new experience."

"Like we balanced and complemented each other."

"And then we didn't know how we'd ever lived without it."

"Yeah, dude."

Ted nodded, looking both awed and overwhelmed. "This is most strange, Bill."

Bill agreed wholeheartedly. "Could take some getting used to."

"Seems to me..." Ted swallowed his nerves and forged ahead. "... we're going to need a lot of practice."

"Just to get over the performance anxiety."

"We can go slow."

"Get the feel of it."

"Sounds good to me, Bill."

"And then..."

"Then we get to work on finishing The Song."

"Excellent," Bill murmured right before their lips met.


End file.
